


i wrote you a song, hope that you sing along, and it goes:

by traumatic



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, American Even, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Isak is Santa, Its february but here this is, M/M, Santa is Real, Visiting Santa Claus, William is an asshole, but thats nothing new, william is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/pseuds/traumatic
Summary: Like a lot of seven year old boys, Even dreams of catching Santa Claus. He dreams of meeting him and shaking his hand, of asking him to show him how he does it, of thanking him for all he's done. When he actually does, Santa is exactly like he'd imagined.Both fortunately and unfortunately, by the time of Even's 23rd birthday, Santa no longer looks like that. He's no longer old or jolly; he doesn't have a large round belly or half-moon spectacles. This Santa is young, lean, and as beautiful as the world itself.Or where it's Isak's turn to drive the sleigh and Even's the only adult who still believes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not chistmas anymore (It's February) but i wrote this over winter break and said why not? 
> 
> So here it is!
> 
> Title from All Time Low's Merry Christmas, Kiss My Ass

Like a lot of seven year old boys, Even dreams of catching Santa Claus. He dreams of meeting him and shaking his hand, of asking him to show him how he does it, of thanking him for all he's done.

His mother says he's real, which of course he is, but his friends at school lie and say otherwise, which only makes it more necessary for Even to meet the Big Guy.

“My mom puts the gifts under the tree and Jonas’ mom does the same for him," William says, trying to crush Even's seven year old heart like his siblings or friends or parents probably crushed his. "Santa's not real. It's all a fallacy told by our parents.”

 _Liar,_ Even thinks. That's all William does. Lie.

Plus, what the heck is a fallacy?

“No way,” Even says with narrowed eyes. “Santa's real. And even if he isn't, who pays for your gifts? Certainly not _your_ mommy, William.”

It's what Even’ mom would call a ‘shit joke’, but it works well enough. William shoves him straight to the ground and runs off crying. Even is pleased with himself and takes Jonas’ outstretched hand to stand back up.

“Is he telling the truth?” Jonas asks.

Even looks up at him and shakes his head. 

“William's a liar. Don't you remember when he said his papa was the tooth fairy?”

“Yeah, you're right, Even. William is a big fat liar.”

Even pats his friend on the back and smiles. Jonas is Even’s bestest friend.

-

Later that week, Christmas settles in. The air gets cold and Even’s mom won't let him outside anymore.

Even pouts, of course, but his mom just sends him off to do his chores as she finishes dinner.

About an hour before Even’s bedtime, his mommy sends him for a bath, washing his hair carefully so no soap gets into his eyes.

“I love you, mom,” he says when she tucks him in later. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiles down at her son, at her pride and joy, and murmurs back, “Good night, love. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Even closes his eyes and dozes off, dreaming of a world filled with snow to play in that never got dirty.

In the middle of his dream, he's awoken awoken by a loud and scary _bang!._

He sits straight up in bed, fearing just for a minute that someone's broken in before he remembers—It's Christmas!

He jumps out of bed and runs down the stairs, hoping to catch just a glimpse of Santa. When he rounds the corner of the room and bounds into the living room where the Christmas tree glimmers and shines, a large man stands in the center, velvet bag resting upon the floor in front of him. Even looks up at the man— he’s quite short for a magical being and all— and grins.

“Santa!” He croons. “I knew you were real!”

The man looks up, startled, and stumbles back a few steps, “Why, hello there, Even!”

“You know my name?” Even is awestricken.

His hero is standing in front of him and he looks exactly like Even had thought he would and _he knows Even's name!_

Big tummy, round face, red cheeks, and kind eyes, all wrapped up in a plush red suit. Shiny leather shoes don his feet, white woolen edges just brushing the tops. He has a weird accent, speaks with a lilt Even doesn't yet recognize, and he smells like sugar and paper.

“Of course! I know the name of everyone! Even those who choose not to believe, much like your friend William.”

“Oh, my God.” Santa knows William.

“Do you know Jonas, too? He’s my bestest friend.”

Santa chuckles and takes a treat from the platter than Even and his mom had left out for him, eating in quietly before answering. Even waits patiently while he does so.

“Yes, I know him, too. What are you doing awake, young one?”

“Heard a loud bang. Woke me up.”

“Must’ve been Prancer!” Santa says with a huff. “He’s become more and more impatient the older he’s gotten.”

Even giggles at that.

“You should get to bed now, love. Don’t want your mommy knowing you’re awake, do we?”

Even shakes his head. His mom would kill him if she knew. Or maybe she’d tuck him back into bed with a kiss on his forehead; it’s hard to tell.

“Santa,” Even says with utmost importance, “will I ever see you again?”

“Me? Why, I'll be back next year! I'll make sure to stop in and say hello,” Santa leans down so he can look into Even’ eyes, his own a snowy white, “and Merry Christmas.”

Even grins from ear to ear and runs straight to Santa, hugging him tightly. His beard tickles Even’ cheek, but it's all good.

In fact, the only other place where Even has felt this safe is his mother's arms.

-

The year flies by.

Even gets older, taller, and gains several pounds. He also finishes second grade. His friends are still his friends, though William continues to tease him relentlessly when he tells him of his meeting with Father Christmas.

It doesn't stop Even from believing, though, even when William's new friend, Chris, calls him a ‘stupid moron' for falling for the ‘Santa charade’. Even, never the violent kid, pushes the jerk to the ground and storms away, fuming as Chris sobs for his mom in the background. 

Everything begins to settle as Christmas closes in, the air turning cold as fast a quickly as the days grow shorter.

Jonas comes over Even’ house with his mom to bake treats for Papa Noël.

On the children's part, it's a valiant effort. But as the adults, their moms' cooking skills are sub par, so their cookies come out as one solid, burnt sheet. 

“It's okay,” Even’ mom says when Even expresses his aggravation once Jonas and his mother have said their goodnights. “Santa will love them. If not, he can bake some more himself.”

She presses her fingers into his sides, tickling him. Even laughs and pushes away from her, desperate to stop the tickling! He loves his mom, but the tickling is too much.

“Mom!” He giggles as she continues on her tickle rampage. “Please! Stop!”

“Alright,” she concedes, smiling wickedly down at him. “It's time for bed anyway, love. Saint Nick’s on his way here now, I bet.”

“You think!?”

“I'd bet on it.”

“Then we've got to hurry!” Even jumps straight up and grabs his mom's hands. “Bath now! Get the jim jams! Then we've to get in bed fast!”

His mom giggles a bit, but hurries nonetheless. Even drags her toward the stairs and straight into the bath, already preparing to meet the Big Man once again.

-

Even sits on his bed, eyes half shut as he tries his absolute best to not fall asleep, his body heavy and tired.

He can't! He won't sleep.

He _has_ to see Santa.

Even’ bedroom clock says 2:36 when he hears his bedroom door creak open and light spills into the room. A large shadow stands in the doorway, crunching on something quietly. Even jumps up and runs toward the figure, reaching his arms out to hug Santa's waist.

Santa takes two steps back to steady them both and almost drops his very crunchy and very square biscuit.

“Santa!” Even whispers, very aware of just how close his mom's room is.

“Even, my boy! How has the year treated you? Well, I hope!”

“Shh!” Even tugs him into his room, closing the door. “My mommy’ll hear!”

“Oh, don't worry about her. Sandman’s watching over her tonight as he does all the adults.”

“Sandman?”

“Absolutely! Here, come with me!” Santa reaches out for Even’s hand.

Even slides his hand into Santa's and lets him lead him into his mom's room.

Her room looks like it usually does— floor clean, but littered with some of Even’ toys and clothes— except for the glowing gold trail of sand spinning around over her head. Even’s little eyes widen in shock as a short golden man slides toward him, arms crossed as a question mark of gold dust floats next to his head.

“This is Even,” Santa says. “Even, this is Sandy.”

Even steps forward to shake the strange gold man's hand and giggles when sand tickles his fingers.

“Sandy doesn't talk much. He's the quietest one of us.”

“‘Us’?”

“Well, there's Bunny, and Tooth, and Jack,” Sandy, Even discovers, is a wonderful artist.

He sculpts beautiful images of the people Santa mentions out of his golden sand and they float through the sky, moving images. Even pokes at the bunny and giggles when he rears back on his back legs and punches the air with his fists.

He can't believe the beauty involved with his favorite holiday beings.

“Holy cow,” Even says with wide eyes as the sand dissipates and spins around his head, twisting up above his head and cascading down around him like rain.

This is heaven. Even doesn't even know how to explain how happy he is.

“Santa, I love you!” He exclaims. “You, too, Sandy! Thank you.”

“You're welcome!” Santa laughs. “You think it's time for bed, though. Don't you?”

Even pouts, but remembers who he's talking to and stops. He can't back talk Santa! He _refuses_ to be on the naughty list.

“Okay,” Even concedes. “Good night. Good luck delivering tonight. Will I...see you next year, too?”

Santa smiles at him, now only two or three inches taller than Even, and brings him in for a tight hug, hand cradling the back his his head. After a second, Even feels a brush of air and the tickle of golden sand wrap around him in a gentle hug.

Even sniffles just a bit, crying just a little because he doesn't want Santa to go; he doesn't want to never see him again.

“We’ll be back for as long as you believe,” Santa says and he pulls away, smiling gently.

Sandy presses his finger to Even’ chest, right over his heart, and Santa fills in the blanks.

“We’ll always be there. In your heart. As the years go by, as you grow and get smarter and taller, you might forget us...or even stop believing in us. But we'll always be right there when you need us. Always.”

Even sniffles once more and nods, wiping at his nose and tears, “I'll never forget. No matter what. I swear.”

Santa smiles a sad, worn smile. A smile with hundreds of years of experience, with an emotion Even’s eight year old mind doesn't quite understand yet.

“Here, love,” Santa says, pulling a small wrapped box from his pocket. “Merry Christmas.”

Even takes the small box delicately and nods, hugging them both once more.

“Off to bed, young one, or your mom’ll make you go for a nap tomorrow!”

“Good night, Santa! And you, too, Sandy!”

Sandy scatters some sand and Santa smiles once more before Even heads back, pausing only momentarily at the door.

“See you next year?”

“Next year,” Santa promises. “Absolutely.”

-

And so Santa returns every year, looking large and jolly, short and rosy, until Even graduates school and moves away to college. When St. Nick visits, he brings his friends— always Sandy, but sometimes others— and Even bakes things for them. Or he tries, at least. Most of them are grateful, except for the damn bunny.

The Christmas of his third year in college, things change. Even usually hears from Santa a few hours before he arrives so the cookies are warm and the milk ice cold, but he doesn't text or call or send a reindeer. In fact, there's only radio silence.

He doesn't get the call on his phone, no even a text.

Immediately, Even become worried; Santa is the most punctual person Even knows.

He starts baking anyway, a little on edge. Santa was one of the only steady figures in his life, through school and coming out and the loss of his friends.

Even settles back on his couch and finishes wrapping gifts for his family. He's halfway through them when his chimney rattles and a puff of ash pushes out from it. Santa’s always been graceful, quiet as a mouse. For the nth time that night, Even worries something's happened.

“Santa?” Even whispers when he can see feet and legs and hips in the chimney.

With one final rattle, a body falls onto Even’s floor, half-covered in soot and dirt. This person is narrow and tall, the exact opposite of the Papa Noël he knew.

Despite it all, Even’s pansexual ass can't help but note how beautiful the boy is and how cute his frown is. Why is he like this.

“Who are you?” Even scowls, remembering who he is.

The stranger is wearing Santa’s coat, looking like he's drowning in all the fabric, and a pair of tight black jeans. His bag of presents plops loudly down onto the floor as he stands, brushing soot off of his hands.

Even is no at all impressed; his landing was, at best, a 3/10, though his face is at least a 11/10.

“I'm Isak...er...Santa, I guess.”

He shares a similar accent to the real Santa, which is weird.

“No, you're not.”

“For tonight I am!” He narrows his eyes. “I've got the old man’s suit on, I’ve got the sleigh and the bastard reindeer. What else makes up Santa?”

“A round belly maybe? A white beard?”

“Oh, sure,” the imposter, Isak, rolls his eyes. “I forgot to grow a full length white beard in the twelve minutes before I was forced into a sleigh and shoved rather _impolitely_ down a chimney!”

“‘Forced’?”

“Santa,” Isak says dramatically, looking irritated, “is like a surname. It's passed down from generation to generation. But this Santa wasn't supposed to retire so early...I was supposed to have _time!_ Time to grow old and get fat and get a beard and learn to love children even when they're little shits. But something...happened. Something unavoidable and tragic. So here I am! Too thin, too tall, and much too young.”

“What happened?”

Even has a bad feeling and he swallows hard to cover his worry, to keep it at bay.

“He...fell off a roof. There are some complications even magic can't fix.”

“Is he dead?”

Even's father died five years ago and it destroyed him for a long time. It brought with it the biggest depressive episode he's ever had. He has coping mechanisms now and a really good shrink, but the toll of losing another figure from his childhood might overtake him.

“No...just back home...resting.”

“Where's Sandy?”

“Trying to help me. Everyone knows I'm not equipped for this job; I'm so behind on houses that everyone's chipping in— even the damn rabbit.”

“You ought to go then, right?” Even frowns.

He won't be the reason little children wake up to empty trees.

“Yeah, I ought to,” he waves his hand and gifts fill the space underneath Even's tree. “Santa said to say Merry Christmas.”

Isak reaches his hand out, holding a box. Inside, Even can already guess what it is. A crystalline snowflake.

“Tell him the same.”

Isak nods and turns back to the chimney, staring up into it forlornly. He turns back to look at Even, smirking just a little.

“Merry Christmas, Isak,” Even says, “and good luck.”

-

The year is long and hard. Even's bipolar becomes more and more erratic. The medicines stop working. He gets a new shrink. He spends a week lost in the streets during a particularly dreadful manic episode. 

In the fall, Even's shrink gives him new meds. These seem to work, but he realizes he can't take a goddamn shit while on them. His life fucking sucks. 

When winter rolls around, Even's grateful for the distraction. Jack Frost stops by on one occasion, bringing with him a snow storm unlike anything New York has seen in a long while. He builds snowmen with Even, swapping stories of the past between badly tossed and ill-aimed snowballs.

Even often thinks about the old Santa, his Santa. He wonders how long these men must live to grow so wise and knowledgeable. To be so effortlessly kind.

He decides it must be centuries.

He gets a call on Christmas eve from Santa’s number— 25-12— and answers it immediately, even though he's mid-break up with his girlfriend. That's partially the problem, she shouts as Even answers.

He loves Papa Noël more than he loves her. Which, in all honesty, might be true. She doesn't believe, though, so she thinks he's hallucinating him or “fucking crazy” or something. _That's_ a problem for Even.

“Hello?” Even says.

“Even? It's, like...It’s Isak? From last year.”

“Oh,” Even deflates a little. “Hey.”

“I'm calling because it's apparently a routine? I don't know, man. Santa scheduled time to call you and is basically making me so.”

“You call him Santa?”

If it is a surname type thing, wouldn't that also make Isak Santa? Or is it a title like CEO or something and Even’s Santa used to have a different name? Used to be a skinny, bare-faced boy?

“Well, yeah. He's the only Santa _I’ve_ ever known.”

“How does that work, then? You have a name. Do you just...take on Santa Claus as an alias or something?”

“This isn't _The Santa Clause,_ Even. I'm not Tim Allen,” Isak says impatiently. “I didn't push Saint Nick off a roof to get this job. I was just...it’s like I was his son and he left me the company. Like Chuck Bass in Gossip Girl. I'm the Chuck Bass of The North Pole...sorta.”

“The North Pole has...cable?”

“I wasn't raised here. I'm from Norway, actually, but, yeah, it does.”

“That's fucking bizarre.”

“I know.”

There's a pause and Even’s never been good with awkward silences so he blurts out the first thing he thinks of.

“What kind of cookies do you like? Or would you like an alternative, like a sandwich or something?”

“What?”

“You're coming tonight, right? What do you want to eat?”

“Oh...well...a burger sounds fucking killer, if you could make that happen.”

“Of course!” Even is offended at the insinuation that he couldn't. “It'll be ready at midnight.”

“Okay,” Isak says and his voice is soft and happy. “I'll see you then?”

“See ya.”

-

Isak’s descent down the chimney is a solid 5/10 this year. He still makes quite a bit of ruckus, but at least he lands on his feet with minimal soot on his hands.

“Hi,” Even says gently, standing out of habit. “How was your year?”

“Truthfully?” Isak says, looking tired as he makes his way toward the kitchen to plop down onto a chair. “Shit. Exhausting. Confusing as fuck.”

“Had a lot to learn?”

Even places the plate down in front of Isak and sits across from him, sipping on a cup of tea. He doesn't like eating this late because it usually upsets his stomach.

“You have no idea,” Isak groans as he's eating. “There're so many little things, subtle nuances, that only come with time. They've been trying to teach me patience, but you can't teach that shit.”

Even nods because he understands; he used to, pre-bipolar diagnosis, have a big problem with impatience. He was a mess but now he likes to think he's at least a little more put together.

“Oh, and then there are the language lessons! My God, there are so many goddamn languages in the world and I have to know them! Fuck. And then I'm not allowed to say profanity either and that's such a drastic change for me because I'm 19 and I have anger that can only be expressed through the F-word.”

“I can't imagine not cursing...but learning languages sounds super cool! How many can you speak right now?”

“I'm fluent in English, French, Spanish, Punjabi, and most European languages...like Finnish and Swedish and German. Scottish English, though, confuses me a lot because of the damn accent.”

Even’s first language is English and even he sometimes struggles to decode Scottish English, so he really can't blame Isak.

“How many do you speak?”

“I mean...like 2. English and French.”

“T’parles français? C'est super, Even. J'adore le français!” _(You speak french? That's cool, Even. I love French.)_

“Oui, c'est très super, mais tu parles beaucoup de langues! Je ne peux pas imaginer ça.” _(Yeah, it's very cool, but you speak a lot of languages. I can't imagine that.)_

“I've been learning since I was a baby,” Isak admits through a mouthful of food. “That part I was mostly prepared for...but now they're shoving a lot of information down my throat at once and it's becoming a little...mixed up. I was in Spain and told a little boy that I was Santa in German. He was so confused!”

Even laughs at Isaks distress, grins when he realizes that the imposter isn't so bad. Maybe they'd have even been friends in a different world.

Maybe they'd have been more.

“Another weird question,” Even can't stop himself and, really, doesn't want to, “are there female Santas? Santas who marry guys? Santas who don't marry anyone?”

He has to know. Isak is too cute for Even to _not_ know.

“Of course,” Isak nods, smirking just slightly. “There have been plenty of Santas from all different backgrounds. Santas from Mexico and Santas from Portugal and Santas who were women and Santas who liked women and Santas who didn't. I think there's been over, like, 100 Santas.”

“Oh,” Even says softly, feeling a little happy inside. “Wow.”

Equal opportunity employment, then. Nice.

“Where's the North Pole, then? Is in directly at the top of the world or what?”

Old Santa used to laugh this question off, but Even knows Isak won't.

“God, no,” Isak laughs. “Northern Finland, if you'd believe it.”

“Isn't there like a myth about you living there?”

“Hell yeah and they're 100% right.”

“That's awesome.”

Isak is just shoveling the last bite of food in his mouth when his watch starts to buzz, a sharp and tinny chime playing out loud, and he curses. Knocks back what's left of his tea in one swift movement.

“I've gotta go.”

“Of course,” Even says.

Isak can't stay with him all night and answer his questions. That would be ridiculous.

Isak stands up and grabs his velvet bag off of the floor. After digging around inside, he pulls out a square navy box and hands it to Even.

“Joyeux Noël, Even.” _(Merry Christmas, Even)_

“Et à toi, aussi, Isak. And good luck.”  _(And to you, as well, Isak.)_

Isak steps toward the fireplace and turns to from brightly at even over his shoulder.

“Oh and Even?” the fireplace opens up and Isak steps inside. “Just so you know, I like dick.”

The fireplace shakes and rattles and then Isak’s gone, a plume of dark soot and Even's small smile as the sole reminders of his appearance.

Well, and his dirty dishes on the table.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think!!!!

The winter this year is long and frozen. Even spends days indoors because he absolutely detests the cold and spends his time writing and wondering about the logistics of the whole Santa thing. 

He has no idea how long Santas live, has no idea if/when Isak will start to look fat and white haired, and decides he has to ask. 

He keeps a list of questions he wants answers to and waits. 

He meets some new friends at school; this time, they're all girls. He's grateful for the escape from the memory of his old friends, from the ones who he abandoned. 

He misses his Santa, though. He misses his kind eyes and his warm smile and his advice. He gave the best advice. 

He finds himself wondering if Isak had lied about the incident, if his Santa is really dead, if Isak is the only one left and just isn't allowed to say. 

That line of thinking, though, comes mid-depressive episode, so he lays in bed and dreads looking outside and seeing the darkness because he knows his life is finite and worthless and so is the sun. He knows that everything he's doing, everything he's done, will one day be meaningless. 

Everything will melt into the void and become singular atoms again. Everything will evaporate and nothing will be left except for a big black hole or a cloud of space dust.

He spends a great portion of the summer locked in his bedroom with the windows open so the breeze blows through. It's the only thing that brings him peace until it's over. Until he's okay again. 

When Christmas approaches, Noora asks to move in with him. 

He's only known her for seven months, but he tells her yes. Helps her carry her boxes up five flights of stairs and delivers them on the floor of the guest room of a house his dad’s ex-wife helps him pay for. 

He's sort of glad he's not alone at least, but he worries about Christmas. Worries about Noora accidentally stumbling into his beautiful, skinny Santa Claus. 

When Isak phones him at half past 8, Even tells him to take the stairs, that he has a roommate now. Isak's response is snappy and snarky and cute as fuck, so Even blows a kiss into the receiver and hangs up. 

At midnight, Even’s door opens and Isak walks in. He looks as skinny and blonde as ever, and just as young. 

Noora’s sitting at the kitchen counter when Isak comes in bitching about how there's no fucking snow due to global warming. 

“Hello,” Isak says hesitantly when he sees her. 

“Hi,” Noora says back. “I'm—” 

“Noora,” Isak finishes and he sighs gently, sounding slightly relieved. “Nice to meet you!” 

Even’s confused by the relief, but smiles gently when they shake hands. How odd. 

“I'm Isak.” 

“Oh,” she says softly, looking between them. “Oh.” 

Even frowns a little, wonders what the second  _ Oh _ means, and then settles down at the kitchen table where a plate of fries and a burger wait with a glass of orange soda. 

“You are the  _ best,” _ Isak says as he sits and shoves food into his mouth. “Food at, uh,  home __ is nothing like this. This isn't designed to be fattening; it just is.” 

“Where's home?” Noora asks, sitting down beside Even. “Your accent is strange.” 

“Oslo, Norway.” 

“Really?” Noora is instantly excited; her girlfriend, Eva, is, too. “I'll have to introduce you to Eva! She'll be so excited to be able to speak with another person from Norway!”

“I look forward to meeting her,” Isak smiles. “Its a lot easier to speak in my first language most of the time. Lots of subtle nuances in English that I miss just because I don't know how to hear or say them.” 

“You two would get along so well!” 

“Definitely.” Isak's grin is mischievous. 

“Alright,” Noora says as she sips the last of her tea. “It's late and I'm off to bed. See you around, Isak.” 

Noora disappears into her room and leaves her mug for Even to wash. Typical. 

“So.” 

Even grins, “So.” 

“How's your year been?” 

“Oh, you know. It's...It was okay.” 

“Oh, _yeah,”_ Isak scoffs and shoves a handful of fries into his mouth. “Sure was ‘okay’ when I checked in on you in June.” 

Even sighs and hides his face begins his hands. He doesn't want to talk about June. June was a fucking disaster. 

“That was a rough time for me. I'm working through it.” 

“I saw that, too. The...what's the word...um...Shrinks? The therapists. I saw them.” 

“I needed to stop living like that. It was like...like living on the face of a coin someone keeps flipping randomly. Everything about my life would be uprooted, inverted, twisted beyond recognition, so I moved. Found a place on a brick wall which I hope no one plans to deconstruct anytime soon.” 

“Is that...a common simile people use? Like I thought I was fluent in english...but I've never heard the phrase “it was like living on the face of a coin”.”

“No,” Even laughs. “I just made that up.” 

“I figured.” 

Even sips from his mug and waits in exactly seven seconds of silence before he blurts out, “Can I ask you some questions?” 

Isak grins and nods, says, “Of course!” so Even pulls out the list he'd made on his phone over the past 365 days. 

“When do you get fat and old?” 

“Not for a long while. Well, the fat part might never happen. Who knows how long my metabolism will hold out.” 

“How long is ‘a long while’?” 

“If there's no injuries or setbacks, Santas can live for hundreds of years. I'll probably look this young until I'm 100 or so.” 

“Holy shit,” Even says softly, shocked. “You're basically immortal.” 

Isak thinks about this for a second, purses his lips in a way which is undeniably cute, and nods, “Basically.” 

“Can I meet the reindeer?” Is Even's next most important question. 

He has yet to be properly introduced and it's been driving him crazy knowing there's a dozen or so flying deer on his roof and he has yet to see them. 

“Yeah, ‘course. Anything else, your highness?” 

“Is my Santa dead?” 

“What?” Isak's grin slides off his face. “What would make you say that?”

“Just...a thought I had.” 

“He's alive. Just...he’s not doing too well, is all. His health has sorta plateaued. He's not getting worse, but he isn't getting better either. Santa is...he’s not young, Even. He’s not 25 or 100 or even 200. I think he's got, like, Alzheimer's or something. That plus the discs in his back being all fucked up…” 

“I'm sorry.” 

Even's heart aches for his Santa and he wishes with every atom in his being that he could speak to him. He doesn't even know what he’d say, though. 

“Yeah,” Isak sighs. “Me, too.” 

-

The chimney is obviously not a viable option for Even to go up, so he heads outside and climbs a ladder he balances against his house. The climb is a bit precarious, but Isak stays at the bottom and holds it for him as he climbs. Then he uses the chimney and is up in less than a minute. 

The reindeer are nothing like Even imagined. They're humongous creatures with beady black eyes and coarse fur. Isak says they've been struggling with the new arrangements as much as the rest of the North Pole, which makes Even just a little sad. 

“You know their names, don't you?” Isak leans against the edge of the red and gold sleigh and smirks. 

“Who doesn't?” Even scoffs. “They wrote a whole song for it—” 

“Sing it!” Isak says brightly, looking mischievous and brilliant and sneaky as snow starts to fall on them. “They love it; Believe me.” 

Even doesn't believe him for a second. 

“No, I don't trust that look in your eyes.” 

Isak rolls his beautiful eyes and laughs, “Come _on!”_

“What's gonna happen?” 

“Nothing! I promise.” 

Even's still hesitant, so Isak takes it upon himself to get him started. 

_ “‘You know…”  _

_ “Dasher and Dancer, and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid, and Donner and Blitzen, but do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?”  _

All of a sudden, all of the reindeer kick off from the roof hard, taking the sleigh upwards about seven feet in the air, knocking Even off his feet and into a pile of dirty leaves leftover from the fall. 

Fortunately Even’s roof is flat  and not sloped or he'd have rolled right off and plummeted to certain death. 

“Asshole!” Even gapes at Isak, betrayal written onto his face. _“You said—”_

“First thing to know about the New Santa: he lies.”

Even stands up and brushes dirty leaves off of his jeans. He momentarily wonders what Noora thinks is going on, but dismisses the thought. 

She sleeps like the dead. 

“Theirs names aren't really like they are in the song. Every Santa gets a new team and the freedom to name their reindeer as they see fit.” 

“What happens to the old ones?” Even steps closer to Isak, dusting dirt and leaves off his ass. “Should I call PETA?” 

Isak laughs at that and shakes his head. Even's struck by how effervescent he looks under the pale and unforgiving moon. 

“They choose us when we become Santa. There're fields and hills and mountains full of them somewhere on an island in the Barents Sea and, when it's our turn to be Santa, we go out there and spend days in the wilderness until they choose us. The old ones either return to their homes or they go back to live with the old Santa.” 

“Oh, cool. What're their names, then?”

“As the leads, we have Julie and Frank. Then we've got Angel and Terje, Neige and Renne, Nicolás and Regalo, and taking up the rear, we have Dzwonek and Weihnachtsstern.” 

“What was that last one again?” Even understood most of them up until Nicolás. After that, well, he has absolutely _no_ idea what Isak said. 

“Nicolás, then Regalo, which is gift in Spanish, then Dzwonek which is Polish for bell, and Weihnachtsstern which is Christmas star in German.” 

Well, Even decides as he grins at how cute and smart Isak is, Weihnachtsstern is certainly a unique name. 

-

Noora is generally a very private person. She minds her business almost all of the time and really never mentions any of the weird or confusing things Even does, which is great. He really likes that about her. 

Unfortunately, her girlfriend is nothing like that.

Even is just casually sitting on his couch, laptop on his lap as he types a logistics report for work, when the door creaks open and people walk inside. 

Even can hear Noora drop her keys and he identifies Eva’s laugh. Hopefully they go into Nooras room and, like, fuck or something and leave Even to his work. 

“Even!” Eva says and, as always, her accent is delightfully present in her pronunciation. “Noora told me about your Norwegian boyfriend!” 

Even groans, drops his head backwards so it rests on the back of the couch. Why can't they be normal twenty somethings and go have sex? Jesus Christ.

“He’s not my _boyfriend,”_ Even grumbles as Eva and Noora join him on the couch. 

“You guys seemed to know each other pretty well,” Noora adds, being unusually unhelpful. “How else would you know a pretty boy from a completely different continent?” 

Even groans again and buries his face in his hands; Isak can never, _ever_ meet Eva or Noora again. That will certainly lead to Even’s demise. 

“He's just someone I know!”

“Where'd you meet him?” Noora asks, grinning. 

“Tinder, probably,” Eva snorts. 

Can Even get any more embarrassed? 

“I don't even have an account on there!” 

“So Grindr then?” Noora laughs. 

_“Noora!”_ Even shouts, in actual physical pain. “You're supposed to be the supportive friend!” 

“I _am_ supportive,” she says and she's grinning. “I'm supportive of you and that cute Norwegian boy!” 

-

**From: Unknown _at 12:27 PM on June 10th_**

Hey I sorta stole your number from the Santa phone. 

It's Isak. 

**From: Unknown**

Isak! You thief! How dare thee!

**From: Unknown**

What is ‘thee’ 

Is it like ‘you’

**From: Unknown**

Way to kill the mood loser 

Yea!! Thee is like an archaic form of you

now that i think about it maybe i'm using it wrong lol

**From: Unknown**

Talking to you is like going to English class. 

boring

**From: Unknown**

Excuse me???? Where are you manners?? 

Show some respect for your elders!

**From: Isak **

How old are you again

Like 30? 

**From: Unknown**

I can't believe you just said that 

You're such an ass oh my god 

**From: Isak**

You text like a teenage girl 

old man

-

**From: isak♡ _at 9:57 AM on December 24th_**

What's for dinner 

**From: cute old man**

You can't expect me to feed you all the time!!! You're going to eat me out of house and home!!!!! 

Specialty burgers from my fav place 

**From: isak♡**

Well, I sure hope they're good otherwise your new contact name will be Prince of Bad Burgers 

**From: cute old man**

What's my current contact name

Isak 

What is it 

**From: isak♡**

Don't worry about that ok 

Can u get me some fries too 

I'm starving 

**From: cute old man**

Sure

But only if u send me a screenshot of what u called me 

I have to know 

Isak 

**From: isak♡**

It's just Even but with a ☆ bc you know who I am 

**From: cute old man**

u liar

I don't trust you for a second 

What do you think I am? Dumb????? 

**From: isak♡**

Yes

I'll see u at midnight :)

-

Isak’s trip down the chimney is just as amusing as it has always been. He can come down the chimney this time because Noora’s spending the holiday at Eva’s mom’s house and Even has the whole place to himself. 

He drives over to his favorite burger place at 11— JG Melon— and gets two cheeseburgers with two orders of cottage fries. 

They're thankfully still hot when Isak shows up. 

Dust cascades down the chimney and Isak appears so suddenly that the force of his descent is so strong he nearly somersaults. Isak struggles to regain his balance and ends up stumbling forward into Even and knocking them both to the ground. 

Isak’s elbow ends up in Even’s ribs as he hovers over him, so he groans in pain as Isak laughs softly; Even can feel every exhale from his chest as he does. 

“Came in a little hot there, don’t you think?” Even grins up at him, even though his side is pounding and Isak’s knee is far too close to Even’s dick. 

What a bullet he'd dodged. 

Isak laughs again. Smiles down at Even. 

Even looks up at Isak and is just sort of astounded that Santa Clauses can look like this. Sexy Santa has never been one of Even’s fantasies, but Isak is so gorgeous in that goddamn velvet coat that it's beginning to change Even's life. 

“I always come in hot,” Isak says and then gets up, dusting his hands off on his pants as he scowls at Even. “Somethings take more time to learn, you jackass. Now where's this so called 'iconic burger'?” 

“Right this way, good sir. Please, allow me to take your coat!” Even rolls his eyes, but Isak misses the sarcasm completely. 

He tosses his coat in Even’s face and sits down. A plateful of cottage fries await him.

“What are these?” 

“Cottage fries. Eat them.” 

Isak does as told and moans; Even has to pretend to not notice. 

“These are so _good,”_ Isak says as he chews. “My God. There are some things The US does perfectly and this is it. The epitome of a perfect meal.” 

“It's the best place in the whole city. I can't comment on the state of other cities’ burgers, though.” 

“Thank you,” Isak says and reaches out to pat Even’s hand. “I truly appreciate it. Who knows when I’d have ever been able to get a classic American burger if not for the goddamned Santa suit?” 

Even smiles softly when Isak sort of rests his hand on top of Even’s on the table. 

There's something in both of their eyes that expresses more than words can. Maybe it's the beginning of something or maybe it's the end. 

Whatever it is, Even is willing to find out. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long journey but here it is! The finalé! Enjoy :)
> 
> Also if there are any problems with the Norwegian, take it up with Google translate and also let me know! Thank you ♡

Another year passes and Even grows older. He wonders when his bones will start to hurt with oncoming storms, when he'll find his first grey hair and subsequently dye his whole head, when he'll look down and be unable to see his toes thanks to a slowing metabolism and large, Santa-like belly. 

By Christmas, Even is relieved to find out he isn't quite there yet. 

Noora and Eva are staying in this year, cuddled up underneath blankets with cups of tea, so Even sends Isak a text. 

**From: cute old man _at 12:26 PM on December 25th_**

Noora’s staying here for Christmas so say hello to the front door instead of the roof this year!!! 

**From: isak♡**

great 

And I've just mastered the chimney fall!!! :(

**From: cute old man**

Wish I could see it!!!! Next year, yeah? 

**From: isak♡**

I have a question for you 

No pressure or anything 

It won't be awkward or anything if you say no 

I'll check my phone before I get to ur house so I know if I have to hide my embarrassment or not 

Wanna ride in the sleigh tonight 

I'll be in around 11 

**From: cute old man**

Omg really????? I'd love to!!!!!!!

I've got pizza for tonight. 

I'll see you at 11 :) 

-

The pizza is still hot when Isak knocks firmly on his door. Noora and Eva are (im)patiently waiting for Even to allow them to eat, talking about some polar bears they saw in a shitty enclosure in a zoo in China when they were backpacking through Asia. 

Even rushes to get the door, a smile already on his face, and opens it. 

“Isak!” He says brightly, reaching for a hug. “It's good to see you!” 

Isak doesn't seem surprised when Even’s arms wrap around him. In fact, he only seems happy as he hugs back, squeezing him tightly. 

“You've got a _beard!”_ Isak gasps, hand on Even’s jawline. “Oh my God. How did you beat me to it?”

“Beat you to what?” Even ask, personifying the phrase 'dazed and confused'. 

Isak’s hand is touching his face. He is only a couple of inches away. He is twice as beautiful as he was last time with rosy cheeks and wide, blue eyes, wearing a green anorak instead as d od the fuzzy red coat. 

_ “The beard!”  _

Even looks at him and then laughs.  He laughs so hard he's almost crying. 

He has a beard before fucking Santa Claus! Iconic. 

“You look better than I will, at least,” Isak sighs, smiling mischievously. “It really...toughens your look.” 

He turns Even’s face to admire it fully. Even is in both heaven and hell. 

Can Isak just, like, kiss him already? Christ. 

_“Me_ — tough? Did you have too much rum in your eggnog or something?” 

“It's rugged and gives you an edge. I like it.” 

Even smiles, can't help it, and nods. He believes Isak. 

“Now where's that pizza?” Isak says loudly, pushing past Even like he lives there. 

Noora and Eva are still sitting in the kitchen, talking about something Chris had done at a party or something, when Isak interrupts. 

“Hi,” Isak says charmingly, his smile blinding and kind and very very very beautiful. “I'm Isak.” 

_“Er du norsk?!”_ Eva’s eyes light up. _“Jeg heter Eva!”_

_ “Du er fra Bergen, nei?”  _

_“Ja!”_ She nods furiously, looking content and excited. 

_ “Jeg er fra Oslo.”  _

“This is so cool,” She sighs, grinning. “I miss home so much sometimes, don't you?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Isak says, holding vigorously. “Sometimes it's like I'm almost there, you know? I see something similar and it brings me back.” 

“Is it...Does it make you sad?” Noora asks. “Being away from Norway?” 

“Sometimes,” Isak says. “Depending on what I'm remembering.” 

Even wonders which memories make Isak happy or sad or flustered or angry. He wants to get to know Isak and he wants Isak to get to know (most) of him. 

“Shall we eat?” Even nods toward the box of pizza. 

Extra cheese pizza with a delicious hand stretched crust from a place Even grew up around. It never changes. 

“This so so good,” Isak says, shaking his head. “Where do you find these places?”

“I eat a lot,” Even shrugs, flattered a little but he doesn't know why. “It's my favorite activity.” 

-

The night wears on and Even starts to get really excited. He's going to sit in Santa's fucking sleigh. How many average people get to say that? 

If not for the scintillating and embarrassing conversation, he'd be so distracted by what's to come that he wouldn't be able to think! 

“So how'd you two meet?” Noora asks with a look in her eye that Even knows means no good. 

Even doesn't know what to say, so he stares wide-eyed at Isak in the hopes that he's better at lying. 

“Oh, that's a, uh...unique story,” he stumbles for a second and recovers, thankfully. 

He laughs. 

“I was working in the mall a couple Christmases ago as a, uh, an elf and he was there with some of his friends who were getting their dog’s picture taken. Even was standing all alone there, no dog or cat or anything, so I did my duty as head elf and offered him a candy cane. Only I don't have great coordination so I tripped and knocked him over. We were covered in snow— real and fake— and he asked me out for a coffee.” 

Isak is a much better liar than Even’d thought he'd be. He tells a very convincing (and adorable) lie.

“Aw,” Eva says with a smile, “How cute!” 

“So you guys...are you together?” 

Even stutters out some vowels, ultimately says nothing of consequence, and buries his face in his hands. Noora is no longer his friend! She can take her blonde ass somewhere else for the New Year! Even is so embarrassed he thinks he might die. 

“We've...not discussed anything like that,” Isak laughs and, when Even peeks out from behind his fingers, Isak’s blushing only slightly. “Just friends and all that.” 

Eva and Noora exchange a look that makes Even groan. Then Noora stage-whispers into Eva’s ear a question that makes Even pull the hood up on his hoodie and yank the strings tight. 

“What kind of friends look at each other like  _ that?” _

Why is Noora out to  _ kill _ Even tonight? 

“The kind of ‘friends’ we used to be,” Eva snorts, laughing so hard her eyes water. 

Isak’s sort of laughing, too, and he's also sort of staring at Even. Even only notices because he's sort of staring back. 

The alarm on Isak’s watch goes off, pinging a chime that sounds like Jingle Bells, and he sighs. 

“Well, that's my cue to go, unfortunately.”

“You're leaving already?” Eva frowns.  _ “Men du har nettopp kommet hit!”  _

_ “Jeg ser deg snart, Eva,” _ Isak smiles gently, a smile full of secrets, “And you, too, Noora. Have a nice night.” 

“Bye!” they say and then Isak grabs Even’s hand and pulls him toward the door. 

The New York air is cold and bitter, even for this time of year. There's a Nor'easter on its way down the coast and 2 feet of snow and negative temperatures are just over the horizon. Fortunately, Even loves the snow, so he doesn't mind. 

“Let me show you something,” Isak whispers as a snow plow drives past, scattering the dry streets with salt. “Are you afraid of heights?” 

Even tentatively admits that, yes, he is. Falling to his death is a giant fucking phobia of his. 

Isak nods and laughs a little. 

“Close your eyes...and don't let go of my hand.” 

Even shuts his eyes and makes sure he has a firm grip on Isak’s hand. If he wasn't so worried about why he has to shut his eyes, he'd be embarrassed about how tightly he's holding him.

Just for a second, Even feels the wind pick up. It's freezing cold, but doesn't bother him. Then he can feel his body sliding upwards, his feet leave the ground. The cold air wraps around his body and lifts him up. 

He hesitantly opens his eyes and is in awe when he sees Isak’s face beside his as they rise together. 

Magic. 

He resists the urge to look down, to see the yards of space between his boots and the ground. The sky looks amazing tonight, anyway. 

Almost white because of the oncoming storm, the moon a waxing crescent. He wonders when the snow will start. 

Isak steps forward like hes on solid ground, tugging Even along with him. They step together onto the roof which still has remnants of snow from last week's storm. There's also a sleigh and ten reindeer. 

_“Weihnachtsstern!”_ Even says, grinning. 

He spent the summer learning how to say that name. He'll admit that, at first, it sounded like he was speaking with a mouthful of water, but now he thinks he has it down. 

“Nice pronunciation,” Isak says, reaching out to pet her. “Even the elves have a hard time with that one.” 

“They're Finnish, though, right? The elves? Or are they like you?” 

“More or less, they're like me. They're from bloodlines all over the world, but they choose this. When they want to go, they're free to. It's like a job, you know?”

“Do they get vacation pay?” 

“Of course!” Isak looks appalled that Even even had to ask. “We aren't savages.” 

“Cool,” Even grins. 

“I've pencilled you in for a quick flight ‘round around the city, if you're up to it?” 

“Hell yeah.” 

Isak smiles as he walks toward the giant sleigh, hands tucked into the pockets of his anorak. It's the first time that Even realizes he isn't wearing the Santa coat. 

“Where's the Santa coat?” Even asks, following a step behind Isak. “You retire it for the night?” 

“More like for your house,” he shrugs. “Didn’t wanna risk Noora or Eva noticing it.” 

“Well,” Even says, rushing to catch up, and he reaches out to touch the lapels of his jacket, “I think this coat is super cute on you. Softens your look.” 

“So, what?” Isak grins, cheeks flushed from the wind. “You're rugged and I'm soft?” 

_ “Exactly!”  _

Isak grumbles a little under his breath, half smiling, and nudges Even. Even nudges him back. 

This is as close to flirting as Even can manage to get. He's an unfortunate man, he knows. 

“Get in, old man,” Isak scoffs, gesturing at the sleigh. “Don't break a hip!” 

“Don't be rude.” 

Even tentatively puts his hands on the side and swings a leg up and over to climb in. He very nearly falls out, but Isak's hands on his waist steady him. He flushes when his shirt rides up and Isak is touching him skin to skin. 

Cute boys are Even’s mortal enemies. 

Once he's seated, Isak grins at him and opens the fucking door. Even gapes at him. 

_“There was a door?!”_ He says incredulously. “I could've _died—”_

“But you didn't! And it was funny as hell,” Isak laughs. “Plus the view of your ass wasn't too bad either.” 

Even turns away to smirk to himself, wrinkling his nose because Isak is impossible. Beautiful and impossible. 

“Luckily the sky is clear,” Isak says. “Tomorrow it won't be.”

“Can you predict the weather, too?!” 

Isak stares at Even for a long, agonizing second. It's obvious he's judging him. 

Even hates him for it just a little. 

“I have a goddamn weather app, dummy.” 

“‘Dummy’?” Even repeats, feeling an inflated sense of aggravation. _“‘Dummy’?!”_

He reaches for Isak with absolutely no idea what he had planned to do and gets his arm caught in the reins that are connected lazily to the dash. Of fucking course. 

He tries to pull his arm free a little desperately because he's within centimeters of Isak's cute little face and he doesn't want to make him uncomfortable or anything and inadvertently yanks on the leads. 

All 10 reindeer make a similar objecting noise before rearing up and taking off a couple yards into the sky. The unexpected force knocks both Isak and Even into each other, legs tangled together as Even, a useless pansexual, tries not to get a boner will sailing through the cold New York air, trapped on Isak's literal lap.

“Hello,” Isak says softly, looking up at Even who is so clumsily resting on top of him. “How are you?” 

“Don't mock me!” Even covers his face with his hands, knees on opposite sides of Isak’s, bottom of his sneakers against the wood of the dash. “I am in no position to be _mocked!”_

“No,” Isak says gently, reaching up to pry Even’s hands away from his embarrassed face, “but you are in a _great_ position to be kissed.”

Evens eyes widen, his heartbeat quickens. Isak cups Even’s face and kisses him. He kisses him like he's going to fly away, like he might never again get the chance. Even kisses him back, hands pressed against Isak’s chest. 

The air against Even's face is cold, but he can feel Isak's warmth like a fire against him. Maybe it's the magic or maybe it's just Iska himself, but hes electric. He's magnetic. 

Even rests his hands on Isak's elbows and loses himself, just for a little while. 

They never do go for the trip around the city. 

-

Isak has trouble saying goodnight. 

It's gotta be hard, Even realizes. Leaving to travel a much traveled path, destined to give gifts for centuries. 

Being Santa is not all it's cracked up to be. 

Isak floats Even down to the hard earth and holds his hand. He doesn't seem to want to let go. 

“I've never…” he starts to say, but stops himself. “Santa training does not leave much time for romance.” 

“That's okay,” Even says gently, trying to get Isak to understand that this is new to him, too. “We can learn together.” 

Evens only ever dated one other person and she was not at _all_ functional. Like she was dysfunctional in all the ways Even is, so it was a relationship destined to fail. They'd never had sex because she was afraid of that “type of commitment and had only wanted brief affection. Even had been fine with that because he didnt truly mind. Then she broke up with him and now he thinks she's married or engaged to a girl with braids to her knees. 

“Okay,” Isak grins. 

God, he’s beautiful. He is so cute that Even is going to literally die. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Isak asks. 

Even doesn't give a response and, instead, leans down to kiss him himself. It's the best feeling in the world. He sort of never wants to let Isak go. 

The Watch From Hell beeps again, this time playing something like O’ Holy Night, and interrupts them. Even glares at it when Isak pulls away.

“I have to go,” he says sorrowfully. “Text me?” 

“Absolutely,” Even promises with a kiss on the nose. “Fly safe.” 

“You, too!” Isak says and then groans. “I thought you were gonna say have a nice night. Fuck.”

Even grins and chuckles a little. He's sad to see Isak go. 

“Good night, Isak,” Even says finally. “See you next year.” 

“Good night, Even.” 

The way he says Even’s name, a little twisted by his accent, is sexy as fuck. Even already has too many problems to count and that is now one of them. 

Even watches him float back up into the sky, waits until he sees the shadow of the sleigh glide across the moon, and smiles to himself. He heads back inside, shivering but still warm from Isak’s touch. 

Eva and Noora are waiting at the kitchen table with expectant smiles and a bottle of rum, their Christmas tradition. 

There's a row of three glasses in front of them and Eva fills them up as he joins them. 

“So?” Noora wiggles her eyebrows. “How'd it go?” 

“Perfect,” Even says with a happy, gentle sigh. “Truly. It could not have gone better.” 

“Did you guys make out or what?!” Noora blurts out, nudging a glass toward him. “I want _details!”_

Even groans, sips at the expensive rum, and spills. Minus all the Santa stuff, of course. 

“So we just...kissed,” Even says after saying they'd taken a walk. Just a walk. “It was great.” 

“When are you seeing him again?” Eva asks, not being so subtle about wanting to speak with Isak again. 

It hits Even that it won't be for a while. Isak has Santa duties and Even has his shithole of a life to attend to. It might not even be until next Christmas. Awful. 

“I don't know,” he admits. Hopefully soon.” 

-

Later that night after they've drunk the entire bottle of rum, they all head to bed. Even’s just glad the walls are thick when he stumbles into his room and closes the door because he can already hear gentle giggling coming from Noora's room. 

There's a small box on the foot of his bed, wrapped up in shiny green paper with a gold bow. Isak had left him a gift. 

A snowflake, he assumes, is what's inside, and he's not wrong, but there's also a note. 

_**Even,** _

_**I'm slipping this note inside this box in the hope that I did what I left Finland determined to do: kiss you. If not, at least I won't have to deal with the embarrassing repercussions for a year.** _

_**I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I know that life is challenging sometimes, even for someone as magnificent as you, so I want you to give me a call if it ever gets too much. I'll scoop you up and we'll run away together and hide in Holland or Iceland or wherever until your problem goes away.** _

_**Just know that, even though I'm like 7000 kilometers away, I'm here for you.** _

_**Anyway, I think this letter got away from me.** _

_**Good night, Even. See you next year.** _

The snowflake inside is one of the most delicate he’s ever received. It's clear with holographic tips and by far the most beautiful one he's gotten. 

He places it on his bookshelf, balancing it on the stand he’d bought to hold them all, and smiles . Perfect. 

Later, as he lays down in bed for the night, showered and moisturized, Even sends Isak a quick text. 

**From: cute old man _at 02:01 AM on December 25_**

Thank you for the snowflake 

And for the other things :)

**From: isak♡**

No problem :) 

Wanna do it again some time? 

**From: cute old man**

Of course 

Nerd. 

**From: isak♡**

How's next week? Post new years day ofc

**From: cute old man**

I'd really really like that ♡


End file.
